Sadness
by ilovecastiel18
Summary: Back in Rome, in 41 A.D., Aziraphale noticed that something was… off, with Crowley. He had cut his hair extremely short and his eyes were covered. Aziraphale was worried, but didn't have the courage to bring it up. Now, a month after the Apocalypse, Aziraphale is noticing the same behaviors from the demon. And this time, he asks about it.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Good Omens, along with its characters, locations, etc. are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. If I owned the rights to it, I wouldn't still be desperate to meet the man that I absolutely ADORE: David Tennant.

**Summary: **Back in Rome, in 41 A.D., Aziraphale noticed that something was… off, with Crowley. He had cut his hair extremely short and his eyes were covered. This was the first time Aziraphale had ever seen Crowley with short hair, and the first time that the demon's eyes were hidden from him. Now, about a month after the Apocalypse, Aziraphale notices the same odd behavior from his friend. This time, he asks about it. One-Shot.

**A/N: **I'm stressed, depressed, and ready for my death. This is the result. Reviews fuel my fire so if you like this story please leave a kind review! God knows that I need the positivity. Thank you!

….

Sadness

Chapter 1

….

_Rome, 41 A.D. Just after Aziraphale and Crowley parted ways:_

Aziraphale was worried, not that he would admit that to anyone. He had noticed something very different in Crowley, something that he had never seen in his other meetings with the wily demon.

Granted, he didn't have much experience to go on. He had only met Crowley a few times, and they were all fairly brief encounters. They'd had conversations, but nothing more than that until they had lunch today.

And yet… Aziraphale could still tell something was off with the demon. He tended to pay a great deal of attention to Crowley – after all, he was Aziraphale's only friend. Which was another thing that the angel wouldn't ever admit to anyone but himself.

Aziraphale first noticed something was wrong when he saw that Crowley had cut his hair extremely short and practically plastered it to his scalp. Aziraphale had always admired Crowley's long, flowing, fiery red hair; and he'd always had a feeling that Crowley had too. So why had he cut it so short?

Aziraphale became even more concerned when he noticed that Crowley was covering his eyes with tinted glasses. Crowley's snake eyes were another thing that Aziraphale secretly admired; he loved when the sun glinted off the demon's liquid gold irises. There was a sort of mystifying, hidden beauty that lay behind Crowley's eyes. A secret sorrow that was buried so deep that Aziraphale wasn't sure that even Crowley could find it. Aziraphale thought that he could search the demon's eyes for hours if he was given the chance. And now he had a feeling that he never really would, that Crowley would hide his eyes as often as he possibly could.

So, what led to this dramatic change in Crowley's demeanor? Aziraphale always considered the demon a sort of free spirit, someone who refused to be defined by anyone else's rules. And now he was hiding the parts of him that made him so gloriously unique.

But, Aziraphale knew that he couldn't bring any of this up. He had let Crowley leave their lunch without saying a single sentence about his concern. Crowley may have been comforted by knowing that Aziraphale cared about him, but Aziraphale wasn't ready to admit that he had affections toward the wily demon.

He let his fears and worries fester, waiting on the day when he would be ready to talk to his friend about his troubles.

….

_Z. Fell & Co., Soho, one month after the Apocalypse-that-wasn't:_

Aziraphale hadn't opened the bookshop since the not-pocalypse. He had thoroughly enjoyed lounging around the shop with his books, his cocoa, his snacks, and his favorite demon. Crowley had hardly left the bookshop since everything that had happened, napping on the couch in the backroom whenever he started to feel tired (Crowley may not need sleep, but he has become so accustomed to it that he has started growing tired, like a human, if he goes too long without it). Oddly, though, Crowley spent most of his time sleeping these days. More so than usual.

Today, Crowley has ventured out. This was the first time he had left the shop for more than an hour since the Apocalypse – he had only ever let to pick up some pastries or for a drive around London to exercise the Bentley.

He had been gone for four hours, and Aziraphale was left wondering exactly where the demon had gone. Crowley had mumbled something as he left, so low in his chest that Aziraphale, even with his heightened angelic hearing, could not hear it. Aziraphale didn't even hear the Bentley screech away when he left.

Aziraphale stood from his chair, concerned, and looked out one of the windows next to the door. The Bentley was sitting on the road in a… parking space? Aziraphale searched his memory for any time, ever, that Crowley had parked in an actual parking space. He usually pulled up _onto _the curb, or took up at least three parking spaces at once. And yet, here was the Bentley, parked neatly in a parking space next to the curb in front of the shop. It was… odd.

Aziraphale carefully bookmarked the book that he was holding, placing it on one of the small tables next to the front door and walking over to his desk. He picked up his ancient phone and dialed Crowley's mobile number – the only number he knew and the only one he ever called.

It rang three times before going to voicemail, something that had mystified Aziraphale when Crowley had explained it to him after the Apocalypse. "This is Anthony J. Crowley. You know what to do, do it with style."

"Crowley, dear, are you alright? I'm probably just being silly, but you've been gone for hours. Please call me back." Aziraphale hung up the phone and rung his hands, beginning to pace behind his desk. Ten minutes passed, and Aziraphale was getting increasingly worried by the second, before his phone rang.

He answered the phone faster than he ever had before; it didn't even finish the first ring. "Crowley?" he answered.

"I'm fine, angel. I'll be back in an hour." There was a pause. "I'm sorry I worried you." Crowley hung up the phone before Aziraphale had a chance to get another word in. Even though he was reassured that Crowley wasn't dying in an alley somewhere, Aziraphale was even more worried about his friend after the call. Crowley had never been that short with him, not even the first time they met, in the Garden. Crowley hadn't been mean, had even apologized, but he still sounded… closed off, in a way that he had never been before. The only other time Crowley had ever been like this was…

Rome. Crowley had been closed off and acting oddly when they had met in Rome, back in 41 A.D. He'd looked incredibly sad, hiding his eyes and changing his appearance drastically. And if Aziraphale remembered correctly…

Aziraphale bustled out from behind his desk and toward one of the many shelves that were stuffed into the bookshop. He ran his finger along the spines until he found the book he wanted, pulling it off the shelf and flipping to the index. He found what he was looking for and flipped to the page, putting his glasses on and scanning the text.

Yes. Changing one's appearance, closing oneself off, and excessive sleeping were all signs of depression. Aziraphale closed the book and walked back to his desk, setting the book down and sighing heavily. He too his glasses off and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He shouldn't be surprised that Crowley had depression. He had suffered more than one serious trauma in his life. Aziraphale should have realized that Crowley was hurting long before now. He displayed all the signs from the beginning. If only Aziraphale had paid attention to someone other than himself…

Just as Aziraphale was about to reopen the book and read about treatment options for depression, Crowley burst through the door, long hair flowing behind him… long hair?

"Crowley?" Aziraphale questioned, silently slipping the book into his desk drawer.

"Yes, angel?" Crowley drawled, walking to the back room.

"Your hair?" Aziraphale asked.

"Oh, yeah. I got tired of my short hair. I haven't had my hair very long since Christ died. Figured I'd grow it long again. Like it?" Crowley explained. His hair was down to his elbows, deep red curls bouncing, pairing perfectly with his black jacket and skinny jeans.

"It's lovely, dear. Though, to be honest, I've almost never seen a hairdo on you that I didn't like." Aziraphale answered, following Crowley to the back room and sitting in his chair. Crowley sprawled across the couch in his usual position. He took off his sunglasses and flung an arm across his eyes.

"Thanks, angel." Crowley muttered.

"Are you alright, dear?" Aziraphale asked quietly.

"M'fine, Aziraphale. Just tired. Mind if I take a nap?" Crowley answered.

"Of course not, Crowley. I'll be in the front of the shop if you need me." Aziraphale stood and patted Crowley on the shoulder as he left. As soon as he made it to his desk, he pulled the mental health book out of his desk drawer and read the entire section on depression, as well as the one on PTSD. When he finished reading that, he powered up his old desktop computer and searched for any research on depression, PTSD, and all other disorders that Crowley could possibly be suffering from. He spent two days researching mental health while Crowley slept.

When Crowley woke up, around six in the evening two days after he fell asleep, Aziraphale was sitting in his chair in the back room reading a novel, his tiny reading glasses perched on his nose.

"Y'know, angel, I've never understood why you wear those glasses. You don't need them." Crowley muttered, flipping over and sliding his sunglasses on.

"I could say the same to you, my dear." Aziraphale responded, turning his page and continuing to read without pause.

"Not the same." Crowley said. He sat up and conjuring a glass of wine for himself.

"Crowley, you just woke up. You're drinking already?" Aziraphale exclaimed, bookmarking and closing his book.

"It's five o'clock somewhere, angel." Crowley drained his glass and refilled it with a snap of his fingers.

"Crowley, are you alright?" Aziraphale asked quietly.

"Didn't you ask me that when I got back? I'm fine, Aziraphale." Crowley answered, not looking up from his wine glass.

"Then why won't you take off your sunglasses?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley glanced up at the angel, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "It's habit, angel. It feels weird to not have them on."

"I don't believe you." Aziraphale said calmly.

"Excuse me?" Crowley responded.

"Dear, while you were sleeping… I did some research. I think you might have… well I think you have depression, Crowley. And PTSD from you Fall. I think the Apocalypse triggered some symptoms and… I'm worried about you." Aziraphale answered.

"Aziraphale, I appreciate that you care about me, but I'm fine. And even if I wasn't, it's really none of your business." Crowley replied. He drained another glass of wine. 

"You're my friend, Crowley, I –"

"I'm your friend? When have you ever treated me like a friend, Aziraphale? I've always dealt with my problems by myself and that's not gonna change now." Crowley stood from the couch and moved toward the door.

Aziraphale stood and followed him. "Crowley, I didn't mean to upset you. I care about you; I just want to take care of you. I want you to be okay."

"I've never been okay, Aziraphale! And I never will. You'll have to deal with that if you want to 'take care of me.'" Crowley snapped, turning around just as he reached the door.

"I can help, Crowley. I know that I can't take back the things that have happened to you, but I can be there for you. I want to be there for you when you feel overwhelmed." Aziraphale said calmly. "Please, dear. I care about you so much."

"Aziraphale, you don't get it. I don't think you ever will. You didn't Fall. You haven't been viewed as a monster since _the beginning of time. _You didn't have to worry about being _destroyed _every time you saw your best friend. _You didn't have to suffer with the thought that you had forever lost your best friend! _You'll never understand my pain, angel. So how could you possibly help?" Crowley's voice cracked at the end, which caused Aziraphale's heart to seize in his chest.

Aziraphale walked up to the hurting demon, reaching up to his face and slowly pulling the sunglasses off his nose. There were tears in his golden eyes. "I would never say that I understand your pain. But I can support you through it, Crowley. That's all I want. I just want to be there for you when you need me." Aziraphale stepped closer and placed his hand on Crowley's elbow. "Please, dear."

Crowley pulled Aziraphale into his chest and buried his face in the angel's white-blond curls. He refused to let his tears fall. He hugged Aziraphale tightly and didn't let go for a long time, relishing the comfort that his best friend was giving him. "Thank you, angel." He whispered.

Aziraphale tightened his grip. "I'm sorry about everything that has happened to you, my dear. I'm sorry that you Fell, and that people think you're a monster. I'm sorry that you thought that you lost me." Aziraphale paused, pulling away from the hug to look Crowley in the eyes. "You're not a monster. I know that saying that won't change how you feel about yourself, but I mean it. Sincerely. I know you think that your eyes are a symbol of your Fall, that they prove that you're an evil, vile demon, but… I think your eyes are beautiful. Truly. When sunlight reflects off them… your eyes are the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I have seen nebulas and galaxies and every beautiful pat of the Earth, dear. And your eyes are my favorite things I have ever seen. The depths of your eyes are astounding…" He paused, realizing that he was going off on a tangent. "And I also mean it when I say that I will not leave you. Ever. You won't lose me, dearest."

This time, Crowley couldn't help but let a tear fall from his eye. "Thank you, angel. I… you don't know how much you mean to me." Crowley rasped.

"I could say the same, my dear. I love you." Aziraphale whispered.

"So much…" Crowley murmured. He pressed his cheek against Aziraphale's. "It will take a long time for me to get better, Aziraphale. It may never happen. I need you to be okay with that."

"Crowley, my love, I have always accepted you for who you are. I know you have been struggling since before I met you. And I know you have struggled many times since we met. I know you were hurting when we met in Rome. I don't know why, but I noticed that you had cut your hair and covered your eyes. I can only guess what caused such a strong reaction from you, but…" he paused, pulling himself away from his rant. "I've seen you when you didn't know I was there, reaching out for the stars that you made and the home that you lost. I think it has made me love you more. I will never judge you for hurting, my dear. And I will never love you any less because of it. I have loved you for a long time, you wily old serpent. That will never change."

Crowley sighed shakily. "Same goes for you, angel. Emotions aren't really my thing, but everything you just said… I feel toward you. I will always be here when you need me. I promise."

Aziraphale got up on his tiptoes and kissed Crowley on the cheek. "I'm sorry for everything you've suffered, dearest."

"And I am so eternally grateful that you have never suffered the same." Crowley kissed Aziraphale's forehead. "And I pray to anyone that'll listen that you never will." He paused. "You promise that you will be there for me, no matter what? I've got a lot of problems, Aziraphale, and…"

Aziraphale silenced Crowley with a kiss. He pulled away after only a moment, but it was enough to stun the demon into silence. "I promise, my love." Aziraphale smiled at Crowley and pressed his face into his black-clad chest.

Crowley would be alright. Aziraphale would do everything he could to help the demon, and he would be there every time that he was needed. He owed Crowley so much more than that, but he would settle for being the best friend, the best partner, that Crowley had ever had. And the best that there ever would be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Good Omens, along with its characters, locations, etc. are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. If I owned the rights to it, I wouldn't still be desperate to meet the man that I absolutely ADORE: David Tennant.

**Summary: **It's been several years since Crowley has accepted Aziraphale's help with dealing with his depression and PTSD. He is napping on the couch when he wakes up from a terrifying nightmare – one that leaves him frustrated and angry that he is not getting better. Aziraphale helps him through it.

**A/N: **And here's part two of "op hardcore projecting on Crowley!" This will most likely be the last part of the story, but that might change in the future if I feel the need to project on our lovely demon again. I hope you enjoy this chapter, please leave a review if you like it!

….

Sadness

Chapter 2

….

_A. Z. Fell & Co., thirty years after the Apocalypse:_

Crowley had decided to take a weeklong nap on Aziraphale's couch, something that he had taken to doing ever since their little "talk" thirty years ago.

He had given up his flat a long time ago – he moved his plants into a greenhouse that mysteriously appeared on top of the bookshop, moved his clothes into a second closet that mysteriously appeared in Aziraphale's bedroom, and… those were basically all of his possessions. His Mona Lisa sketch became the centerpiece of the back room of the shop, and his throne was sitting in the greenhouse in the middle of all the plants so they would be thoroughly intimidated when Crowley was otherwise occupied. He did not feel the need to bring anything else from his somber, bare, lonely life before he and Aziraphale confessed their undying love to each other. Something that he was still wrapping his head around.

Crowley sometimes slept in he and Aziraphale's bedroom, spreading across the silk sheets like a starfish because his angel never cared for sleep. This was almost always when Crowley did not want to bother his angel with his problems – when Aziraphale was absorbed in a particularly interesting book, or when he was dining on an exceptionally delicious pastry. Usually, though, he slept in the back room – it made him feel safer knowing that Aziraphale was so close to him when he was at his most vulnerable.

He had never minded being alone when he slept. He always felt like he could wake at a moment's notice if he was in immediate danger. But having Aziraphale so close to him, whether sitting at his feet, or in his chair, or even out in the main area of the bookshop – it made Crowley feel safe and secure in a way that he had never felt before. Not even when he was an angel.

That was where he found himself today: sprawled on the sofa, one arm slung across his face, twisted in a way that only a snake could twist. He was snoring lightly, something that he was entirely unaware of, but that was making Aziraphale smile brightly as he read his novel, stroking a hand up and down the side of Crowley's thigh.

In hindsight, Crowley should have known that it was a bad idea to nap today. He had been struggling more so than usual, over the last few days. He felt like he might just be crushed under the weight of his depressing thoughts. He should have known that he would have a nightmare. But he didn't really thing about it.

So, while Aziraphale was enjoying the quiet time that they were (sort of) spending together, Crowley was most definitely not.

_He hadn't really meant to hang around with Lucifer. He was bored, and tired of the food, and didn't have any assignments for the rest of the day. When Lucifer and the guys walked up and asked him to hang out with them, hear them out, he figured there was no reason to say no. _

_Suddenly, as he and the guys were playing a new hand of blackjack, there was the booming voice of the Almighty, screaming down at them for disobeying. And before he could say a word edgewise, he was falling, falling, falling, for thousands of light years, just to land in…_

_Aziraphale's bookshop. _

_Crowley stood from the ground and cracked his back, feeling the fluid feeling of his spine that came from his new form: a snake. He looked around at the flames for a moment before realizing what he was looking at. Memories flooded his mind – everything that he had ever lived through, except… his name? He could not remember his angelic name. He puzzled on it for a moment before moving on to a new thought._

_And then Crowley realized that the bookshop was burning. And his mind flooded with thoughts of Aziraphale. His best friend, the most important person in his life, was dying and he was sitting here thinking about how he couldn't remember his name!_

_Crowley rushed around the bookshop, screaming for Aziraphale. He looked upstairs, under the desk, under tables, behind bookshelves, everywhere. He was screaming so loud he was hoarse, tears streaming down his face. _

"_Aziraphale! Aziraphale, please! Please Answer me! Please! _Aziraphale!"

Crowley woke with a start, tears streaming down his face. His throat was dry and scratchy, presumably from screaming. Aziraphale was leaning over him and shaking his shoulders, a look of deep concern etched onto his face.

"Crowley, are you alright? You scared me half to death!" Aziraphale exclaimed, straightening up. Crowley sat up and buried his face in his hands. He felt the couch dip beside him. "Talk to me, dearest." Aziraphale whispered.

"I'm fine, angel. Nightmare. Thanks for waking me up." Crowley mumbled.

"I understand if you don't want to talk about it, but I am here to listen if you do." Aziraphale responded, reaching over and rubbing circles into Crowley's back.

"It was the usual shit. I dreamt about my Fall. Except this time, I landed in the shop when it was burning and couldn't find you. No different than usual." Crowley muttered.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with that, dear. Hopefully, with a little more time, you won't have as many nightmares…" Aziraphale whispered, kissing Crowley's temple. "I know it's been hard, y love, but you will get better with time. I will be here…"

"That's just it though, Aziraphale! I'm not getting better! I am exactly the same as I was thirty years ago! I'm sick of being so fucking broken!" Crowley yelled, pulling away from Aziraphale. He started scratching his hand.

"Crowley, you're not broken…"

"I am! Why is my mind fighting against me? I don't understand why I have to struggle with these things. I have unending waves of self-hatred and soul-crushing sadness pelting me all day, every day, while some people get to live their lives without ever having to deal with that!" He pulled at his hair and started rocking slightly. "I just want to be normal, angel. I don't want to hurt like this anymore. I would rather just die than deal with this any longer." Crowley deflated a little at the end, his body sagging as he slid off the couch and onto the floor. He pulled his knees into his chest and buried his face in his arms, scratching his wrist.

Aziraphale slid off the couch and sat on the floor next to his demon, keeping distance between them in case Crowley needed space.

"Crowley, my dear, you've never been normal. You're brilliant, brave, daring, stylish, loving, and all around amazing. You are vastly superior to anyone who could possibly be considered 'normal.'" He paused, wanting to reach out to Crowley and comfort him. "I cannot say that I know what you are feeling, dearest. I understand wanting to feel normal. After all, I never fit in with the other angels in Heaven. But I have never had to struggle against my own feelings, my own mind. That is something that is unfathomable to those of us who have never felt it. And it breaks my heart to see you struggling against yourself, my love." He paused again, noticing that Crowley's wrist was turning a very bright shade of red. He decided to ignore it for the moment. "But I do not think that death is the answer. You have been struggling with this for six thousand years, Crowley. Thirty years is the equivalent of about a month for us. You cannot expect to get better in a month." Aziraphale touched Crowley's shoulder lightly. He flinched. "I cannot imagine how hard this is, Crowley. But please, stick it out. For you, and for me. I cannot fathom spending eternity without you by my side. I will help you in any way I can, my love. I promise you that."

Crowley's scratching of his wrist slowed, leaving deep red gouges in the skin that were leaking blood. Aziraphale pushed away the tears that were forming in his eyes and lightly touched Crowley's arm.

"May I?" he asked quietly. Crowley nodded. Aziraphale gently pulled the injured arm away from Crowley's knees, examining it. He couldn't help but hold Crowley's injury against his chest, trying to project as much love into his demon as he could. He ran his fingers over the cuts and healed them, kissing the pink spot that was left behind.

"I'm sorry, angel." Crowley muttered, uncurling himself from the ball that he had been in. he tipped sideways and leaned his head against Aziraphale's shoulder. "I'm so sorry that you have to deal with me."

"Crowley, you are not a burden to me. I want to be there for you. I want to help you get better and fight this terrible illness. Never apologize to me for being sad, my dear." Aziraphale kissed Crowley's temple. "I love you." He whispered, looking down at his demon.

"I love you too, Aziraphale. Always have. I just wish I was a better person…"

"You are the best person I know, Crowley. You are so unfailingly kind, more so than I, or any of the other angels, have ever been. You see humans struggling and you help them, so they do not feel like you do every day. You have been there for me in so many times, in so many ways. Probably more times than either of us realize. You are so chivalrous, so selfless, my love. Never forget that." Aziraphale argued. He gently lowered Crowley's head into his lap and started running his fingers through his long red hair. "Crowley, I love you so much. I have never, and will never, fault you for struggling. Some of your best traits have come from your sorrows. You are so good, my dear, in so many ways. I want you to get better, but I would never condemn you if you do not. I love every bit of you, even the parts that you don't love yourself."

A tear slipped down Crowley's cheek. He turned and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's waist, burying his face in his soft belly. Aziraphale kept running his hands through Crowley's long red hair. "I am so, so lucky to have you in my life, angel." he muttered into Aziraphale's waistcoat. "No one has ever loved me as much as you do. I'm not sure that any human has ever felt this kind of love either. We have lived through so much together, you and I. I don't know what I'd do without you…"

"The feeling is mutual, dearest." Aziraphale chuckled lightly. The smile quickly left his face. "Crowley, I want you to promise me something." He said. Crowley slowly sat up from the angel's lap, wiping at the tears that stained his face. "I want you to promise me that you will come to me whenever you are having a bad day. I know that you sometimes choose to deal with things by yourself so you do not burden me, but I don't want you to do that anymore. You are my priority, Crowley. You always will be. I would kick the Almighty herself out of my shop if it meant helping you. Promise me."

Crowley leaned forward and kissed Aziraphale, long and lovingly. The kiss left the taste of salt in Aziraphale's mouth from the demon's tears. "I promise, angel. I will accept and relish your love for as long as you will give it. If that means talking about my feelings sometimes, then so be it."

"You will be talking about your feelings until the end of time, my love. I will love you until the last stars in the universe die, Crowley. I will love you until I exist no more, even if you do not promise to do the same. You are everything to me, my dear."

"I promise to love you until the end of time too, Aziraphale. I mean, I've already loved you for six thousand years, what are a few thousand more?" Crowley smiled and kissed Aziraphale again, running his hands through the angel's fluffy, white-blond curls. Just because he could.

He had a feeling that, one day, he may be alright after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Good Omens, along with its characters, locations, etc. are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. If I owned the rights to it, I wouldn't still be desperate to meet the man that I absolutely ADORE: David Tennant.

**Summary: **It's been forty-six years since the events in chapter two. Aziraphale gets some bad news and cannot contain his grief and sorrow for everything that happened during the Apocalypse. Crowley reminds him that it is okay for him to be sad.

**A/N: **Since I really focused this story on Crowley's depression, I wanted to round it out with a chapter about how it is alright for Aziraphale to be sad too. Some people don't want to show it, or feel as if their feelings aren't important because they love someone with depression. But everyone has the right to be sad.

….

Sadness

Chapter 3

….

Crowley has slowly been getting better since his conversation with Aziraphale forty-five years ago. He's been having less frequent nightmares, and he doesn't always feel overwhelmed by his feelings. He spends less time asleep, and more time really appreciating all of the good things he had in his life, namely Aziraphale.

Not that Crowley hadn't appreciated Aziraphale before. But his depression had clouded the angel's love for him. Crowley had always seen himself as a burden, especially since the realization that he had mental illnesses. He knew that Aziraphale loved him, but he was never sure how long that would last. His depression wouldn't let him see past the inevitable day that his angel realized that he was just _too much._

But, that day never came. Aziraphale was by his side through every good day and every bad. He had never waivered in his unending love for Crowley. And, slowly, Crowley began to believe that Aziraphale's love really was unending. He slowly got better.

Crowley was currently napping in the bed that he (very rarely) shared with Aziraphale – he had wanted a very good, very long, uninterrupted nap. Possibly for a few weeks. He'd recently had a bad few years; a lot of naps that ended with him being startled awake by his dreams. He could hardly sleep for a day before he was woken by flashbacks to the Apocalypse, where everything almost ended, or the bookshop burning down, where everything had ended. If only for a few hours.

But, as always, Aziraphale had helped him through it, holding him as he cried and listening to him describe the same dream over and over again. He had been the rock that Crowley clung to as he was being swept away by a tidal wave. And now, he really felt as if he could sleep without any nightmares. So, he had bid his love adieu, climbed under the silk sheets, and passed out as soon as his head hit his pillow.

Crowley truly felt okay, for the first time in a very long time, which was why he was so startled when he woke up only three days later. When he first woke up, he couldn't place why he was startled awake so suddenly. He had not had a nightmare, there was no one in the bedroom, he could not sense anybody in the shop except for Aziraphale…

Aziraphale. Crowley was sensing very strong, very painful waves of emotion coming from his angel. Unsure what could possibly cause such a strong reaction from Aziraphale, Crowley slipped out of bed and softly padded down the stairs, making his way into the back room of the shop.

"Angel?" he asked softly, as he pushed aside the curtain that separated the room from the rest of the shop. Aziraphale was sitting on the couch, hunched over, with his face buried in his hands. His shoulders were shaking.

"I'm sorry, Crowley, I didn't mean to wake you." Aziraphale's voice cracked as Crowley sat down next to him.

"You didn't. Well, not in the traditional sense. I sensed the pain radiating off you." He ran a hand across Aziraphale's back and down his arm. "What's wrong, my love?" Crowley whispered.

"I just got a phone call from Adam Young's wife. He passed away a few hours ago." Aziraphale rasped.

Crowley sighed. "I'm sorry, Aziraphale. I know how much he meant to you." He gently tugged the angel into his chest. He wrapped one arm around Aziraphale's back, resting the other atop Aziraphale's hand, which was resting on his own, black-clad chest.

Aziraphale sniffed. "It's not just that he's gone, it's…" Aziraphale choked on his next words, silently crying into Crowley's chest. The demon stayed silent, rubbing circles into his angel's back. He had every intention of sitting in that position for the rest of the century, if it meant comforting Aziraphale.

After a few minutes, the angel choked out the rest of his sentence. "We're the only ones left, Crowley." He whispered.

"We're the only ones left… of what?" Crowley responded, still rubbing Aziraphale's back.

"We are the only beings left on Earth who know what happened during the Apocalypse. We're the only ones who know that Heaven was willing to use an eleven-year-old boy to end the _world._ People spend so much time praying – to God, to the angels, to anyone they think will listen. They have _no idea _that the agents of Heaven are so… _cruel. _Angels, and the Almightly, for that matter, are nothing like humans think they are. And the two of us are the only ones left who know that." Aziraphale paused. "And I'm one of them. I may be separated from Heaven, but I will always be an angel. How is that something that I was ever proud of?" Aziraphale sat up from Crowley's chest, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry, Crowley, I shouldn't be burdening you with this. Not when you're getting better…."

Crowley cut him off. "Aziraphale, never apologize to me for being sad. Just because I have depression, doesn't mean that you cannot feel depressed. Everyone has the right to be sad. Look at me, Aziraphale." Crowley sat up and gently grabbed the angel's chin, turning his face so they were making eye contact. "I love you. That love is not dependent on your mood, and does not go away with your happiness. I am not the only person in this relationship who is important, and whose feelings matter, angel. You are not a burden to me." Crowley reached up and brushed a tear off Aziraphale's cheek.

"I just cannot wrap my mind around why Heaven wanted to end the world. They were willing to destroy so _much_ – people, books, food, music, cars, shops… there is so much culture, so much history, all crammed into this tiny, young planet. And the angels, the _good guys, _were willing to destroy all of it just because the Great Plan said so. What gives them the right to make such a decision? Who said that they could destroy everything? I guess nobody will every know." Aziraphale sniffed.

"I don't know what made them think they had the right to destroy everything, Aziraphale, but I do know this: we may be the only being left on Earth who truly know about the Apocalypse, but we are also immortal, my love. We will carry that torch with us until the end of the universe. The humans may not know about that day, but we will remember every moment. We will carry that pain until every human is gone, and every star has died. The cruelty of Heaven and Hell will never be forgotten, I can promise you that." Crowley paused, gently kissing Aziraphale's forehead.

"The fact remains that I was one of them, Crowley. I believed in the Great Plan. I believed that the Apocalypse had to happen, in order to defeat the Forces of Evil and make the world a holy place once again. I believed them for _six thousand years,_ dear. I brushed you off every time you explained to me that they were cruel, every time you said that they could not be trusted. I believed in Heaven until the last possible second. If I had listened to you sooner, all of that pain could have been prevented." Aziraphale cried.

"Heaven was your home, my love. You may have loved Earth, you may have even loved me, but you came from Heaven. You lived in Heaven since the beginning of time. The angels were your family, in a time before you truly understood what family was. Anyone who understands anything about toxic families would understand why you trusted them until you could not anymore. And I understand more about toxic families than anyone else probably does. I never faulted you for trusting them, Aziraphale. I may have found it a bit annoying, and I may have wondered exactly how naïve you were, but I understood. I trusted Heaven with everything in me, until I couldn't anymore. You are not to blame, my love." Crowley leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Aziraphale's.

"Anyway, you should be proud to be an angel, Aziraphale. Do you know why?" he whispered.

Aziraphale shook his head.

"You should be proud to be an angel, because you are the angel that the humans pray to. Aziraphale, you defined the world's definition of the word 'angel.' You are the being that the humans modeled their beliefs after. The rest of the angels may be horrible, but you are not. When the humans pray, they are praying to you. That is something to be proud of." Crowley brushed a stray curl back from Aziraphale's forehead. "I am so proud of you, Aziraphale. I am so proud of the being that you are. I am so proud of the things you have done. I am so proud to know you, so amazed that I have been allowed to love you for as long as I have. And I am so grateful that you love me in return. I love you more than anything, angel, in this world or any other. That is something that Heaven can never take away." Crowley leaned forward and gently kissed Aziraphale. "You are everything to me." He whispered.

"You're everything to me as well, Crowley. You have been there for me in ways that Heaven never has, and never could. I am so, so, so lucky that you love me. You made me see that Heaven was wrong. You were there for me even when I wasn't there for you. You and I saved the _world. _Nothing can compare to that." Aziraphale kissed Crowley, lingering for a very long moment. "Nothing will ever be able to take away the pain from the Apocalypse, or the pain of losing nearly everything that I have ever known. But I did not lose the one thing that mattered the most to me. You're right here." Aziraphale smiled, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Crowley's ear. "You are the most important thing in my life, Crowley. I could not survive without you by my side. You have been with me every step of the way, and I cannot even begin to put my feelings for you into words. Love is not a strong enough word to describe what I feel for you, Crowley, but it will have to do. I love you." He paused. "Thank you, dearest." He breathed.

Crowley leaned in and kissed Aziraphale again. "Anytime, my love."


End file.
